


Assassin's Creed: Renegades

by ass_sass_sin_o



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Betrayal, Dark, Drama, F/M, Greece, Modern Assassins (Assassin's Creed), Pain, Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-31 13:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ass_sass_sin_o/pseuds/ass_sass_sin_o
Summary: A chance encounter on a mission sends your head reeling with question as to the identity of the Templar who busted you. But as more secrets are uncovered, you realise that you might not be on the right side of history after all...Shay Cormac/Female Reader





	1. ONE: THE PRELUDE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You encounter a familiar face on a mission...

Iced rain pounds down in heavy droves, obscuring your vision to the point of near blindness, the droplets trickle from your eyelashes, splashing on the smooth skin of your uncovered hands, which grip at the rifle incessantly.

A quiet breath loosens itself from your body, turning to white mist as it touches the frigid air. Both your eyes and your gun are trained on the warehouse door across the road, illuminated by the sickly yellow street lamps.

Hidden up here as you are, you adjust yourself again, your legs nearly cramping with crouching on the neighbouring roof for at least an hour now.

“Damn Templars,” you huff to yourself, “How long do your meetings take?”

Your annoyance at your time wasted waiting is short lived, however, as those rusted doors swing open, revealing your intended target to the night.

“Bingo,” you whisper, a smirk crawling its way up your hooded face.

Finger straying over the trigger, you reaims your rifle at the Grandmaster in the street. Your hands twitching a little with excitement, but you steady yourself just in time.

Another breath in, another breath out.

You is sure of your aim, and know your bullet will fly true and straight into the heart of the Grandmaster. Not a second before you pulls the trigger, a thud and echoes of swearing ring out behind you, giving you just enough time to roll to the side as a dark figure lunges from behind.

You swear aloud, kicking at the Templar agent who jumped you as he advances on you. 

“Assassin on the roof!” the Templar calls into a comms device on his wrist, “Assassin on the roof!”

Jumping to your feet, you lash out at the Templar before you, landing a few kicks where it’s sure to hurt before he manages to get a few blows in of his own. His hands, large and calloused, grip at your wrists, his thumbs wedged into the mechanisms of your hidden blades - stopping them from squealing out to stab him. His face is covered by a dark mask, his eyes shrouded by the dark hood over his head - the stoniness of his darkened form makes your heart pound in your ears, your lungs threatening to constrict as he gets you on your knees.

With a growl of annoyance, you writhe to break free of his grip. At some point during the struggle, your hood falls back off your head, instantly soaking your tied back hair.

The Templar pauses. Coffee eyes blink behind his mask with recognition, and his grip loosens slightly - enough so you can wriggle free.

“(Name),” he whispers, reaching one gloved arm out, as if you take your hand.

Brows furrowed, you take a small step back, kicking up your rifle to sling it over your shoulder. A glance to the side tells your the Grandmaster Templar is already gone, replaced instead by a swarm of agents. He tries again, whispering your name with such reverence it could almost have been spoken during the throes of a passionate night - how does he know your name? The ice running through your veins at the revelation is not simply due to the freezing rain anymore.

“She…” the Templar swallows, bringing to comms device to his mouth again, “The Assassin got away, they used the rain as cover,”

Staring at the Templar, who remains gazing at you, you frown at his words. He’s letting you go? But...oh well, you’re not one to pass up an opportunity to escape.

Pulling your hood back up, you jog away across the roof, hopping over warehouse after warehouse until you are free from Templar territory.

But there was something about that Templar’s voice...a warm familiarity that calls to you, the rough twang of his accent - Yet you can’t quite place it.

With a mind full of confusion and annoyance at your failure, you fade into the night as you race back to the bureau. Master Achilles won't be at all happy that you failed to kill Grandmaster Haytham...but at least you yourself are alive.


	2. TWO: THE TRANSFER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a failed mission, you attend a meeting with Achilles

 

Despite the lashing rain of last night, the dawning of the new day is brighter than it should be. Rolling out the the comfort of your bed, you shuffle past the open curtains and into the bathroom, your eyes shuttered against the harsh glare of the spring sun.

The tang of the toothpaste against your tongue sends you jolting into the waking world, where you glare at your own reflection in the mirror. Blooming like a spring flower, a grey bruise sits on your left cheek, still sore from the punches given by that Templar agent last night...damn him, he let you go only  _ after  _ making a mess of your face.

Great, a meeting with the Master Assassins and you’s got a fat, ugly bruise on your face. Just great.

After a lengthy shower, you discover that the bruise is nothing a little concealer can’t handle, and soon your skin looks good as new - only if one doesn’t look too closely. A quick breakfast of dry coco pops is swallowed quickly, washed down by a glass of water, as you barrel from your flat and into the car park beneath the block.

As an Assassin, it would be easier to live within the compound, but you prefer the freedom your tiny flat gives, and besides, if you lived in the compound, you wouldn’t get to ride your sweet motorcycle through the town every day.

Jacket zipped up, helmet crammed on, you kick the bike into life, revelling as the smooth purr of it’s engine. In your excitement, you’re barely seated before you’re off, the humming roar growling its way down the street as you race yourself to the bureau. The security guard there barely acknowledges you, having grown used to your daily comings and goings, and lets you in without a second thought.

Once your bike is safely stored in the compound’s garage, you stroll into the high rise building, one that twins so many others in the city.

“Late again, (Name),” the sharp voice of Hope Jensen peals from behind the reception desk, “I was minutes away from checking your location,”

Subconsciously, you run a thumb over the smooth skin on your wrist, knowing that beneath there, lies a minuscule tracker device, used by the Assassins to keep an eye on each other - or, at least, to keep an eye on the rowdy ones. Ie, you.

“Didn’t sleep last night, got back later than usual” you huff, pointing over to the metallic lift at the far end, “Debriefing as usual?”

Nodding, Hope slips out from behind the desk, the poor receptionist there breathing out a sigh of relief as to her departure, and accompanies you into the wide elevator. Her fingers press the top button, and you wince internally  at the choice of floor.

Usually, for debriefing, you go to the second to top floor, where Achilles’ office is - what with him being the American Master Assassin and all. Going to the very top means that something’s up, that the other top dogs are here too.

And for some reason, they want to speak with  _ you _ .

Shifting in your leather jacket - a staple for you these days - you hum absentmindedly as the lift slows to a stop, hoping to take your mind off the plethora of killers awaiting your arrival. Once the doors have opened into the air conditioned lobby, Hope sets off at a brisk pace, nearly dragging you through the mirrored corridors and glass doors, until you reach the set of doors in the very centre; the meeting room.

First, you can’t help but suck in a breath at the view. Damn these Assassins spared no expense when building this place - the floor to ceiling windows down one side of the room peer out over the churning streets of the city below, and let in tendrils of golden, shimmering sunlight.

Your eyes trail over the nearby buildings, marvelling at their closeness, then move to the vast, glass table in the centre of the room, laden with Master Assassins of all nations - all eyes on you.

“(Name), nice of you to finally show your face,” Achilles nods to you from the head of the table, and beckons you over, “I was sorry to hear of your mission failure last night, but such things cannot be helped - do sit down,”

Plopping down in the nearest vacant seat, you try to ignore all the eyes staring at you, and focus instead on Achilles, and your old friend, Connor Kenway.

“I failed it, and walked free because a Templar agent let me - is that why you have brought me here, before all the masters?” you ask, laying your palms flat on the unblemished glass tabletop, at your words, a look of concern crosses Achilles’ face, before he shakes his head abruptly.

“No, not quite,” he frowns, “You are an extremely talented woman, (Name), and we feel this branch is lacking in opportunities for you - how would you feel about an transfer to another branch?”

Although physically you are on the top floor of that building, internally, your heart has dropped like a stone to the second basement. A transfer. Again?

Jacob and Evie Frye had spun the exact same spiel to your when they transferred your from the British Brotherhood to the American...and now they want you gone too.

“Oh,” you mutters, “Where to?”

Your blue eyes travel across the room, wondering which foreign Mentor will be lumped with your by the end of the week. At the far end, the dark eyes of the famed Ezio Auditore look you over, perhaps you’ll be sent to Italy...you’s always wanted to see Venice. To his right, looking as if nursing a wicked hangover, Connor’s grandfather Edward smirks at some internal joke of his - god help your if you’re sent with him, rum has never sat well with you.

The Frye twins are there, perhaps you’ll go back home to England, or maybe you’ll go to Egypt with Bayek or maybe…

Oh, now you thinks about it, a transfer does sound quite exciting -  it’s somewhere new, at least, somewhere where every street corner holds a memory.

“Worry not, dear, worry not,” Achilles pats your hand, “This transfer will only be the final step in your long term training - after it you will be eligible to become a Master,”

A jolt of white hot joy courses through your...becoming a Master Assassin has been your dream since you was first initiated.

“Oh,” you repeat, unsure of what to say, “But...where?”

“The branch you will be going to is relatively new, only a few years old, but I’m sure you’ll have so much fun,” Achilles points to the back of the room, to a pair you had only glazed over before, “Care to take over?”

Two coppery skinned Assassin’s step forwards, their muscles straining beneath their shirts. Their matching, bronze eyes and coffee hair marks them out as siblings.

“It is good to meet you, (Name),” the muscled lady speaks first, “I am Kassandra, and this is my brother Alexios, we are Mentors in the Greek Brotherhood,”

You had known from the moment Kassandra had spoken that you would be going to Greece, your strong accent practically spelt it out for you, but to hear the words properly spoken - oh you can’t help but let your jaw drop.

Greece? Greece!

“Wow,” you squeak, “I love Greece,”

Kassandra smirks in amusement, but her brother - the silent Alexios - tips back his head in laughter, the golden beads woven through his hair sparkling in the light from the window.

“We all love Greece,” he laughs, his voice flattening you like a rolling boulder by pure deepness alone.

Damn, it's been awhile since you felt that way about a voice…

“When are we going?” you ask, knowing you wouldn’t mind if you went there and then.

Oh to be in Greece...balmy air, glittering blue seas, delicious cuisine...your mouth’s already watering.

“Someone’s eager,” Kassandra places her hands on her hips and chuckles, “We go next Monday, welcome to the Greek Brotherhood, (Name),”

The rest of the meeting passes in a flash, with you itching to kick open those vast windows and scream to all of New York that you’re going to goddamned Greece! And what’s more: you’re going to be a Master Assassin! As the meeting draws to a close, you politely thank all the Assassins who congratulate you - especially the Frye twins, who trained you first, who set you on this path.

A quick chat with Kassandra and Alexios tells you anything important you need to know, before you’re back on your bike and driving back home.

Kicking the door shut behind you, you collapse onto the couch in a fit of giggles at your transfer.

Greece, eh? Not so bad after all.

Your hand reaches out to the coffee table next to you, fingers splayed to find the damn remote. Ah, got it! Slowly, you sit up on the plush couch, feeling something off about the object in your hand that most certainly isn’t the remote control.

A green, velvet box sits in your hands, tied up with a silken ribbon of black. Jumping to your feet, you scrabble around the flat, trying in vain to spy any signs of a break in - but there's nothing.

With a frown, you pull at the ribbon, letting it fall to the floor by your feet. Then you open the box, a shuddering gasp echoing from your as you lay eyes on the object inside.

A simple necklace lays on a bed of cotton, the thick black chord carefully taped to the bottom of the box. The pendant in the centre is of polished pewter, the insignia etched into the circle that of Yggdrasil - the tree of life.

Teary eyed, you struggle to tear your eyes from the necklace, one that is twin to that your boyfriend gave you at least two years ago - but this very necklace, along with your lover, disappeared together on that fatal night.

Slamming the box shut, you toss it carelessly on your couch.

What sicko would do a thing like that?


	3. THREE: THE JOURNEY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You embark of your journey to Greece

Pressing a kiss to your hand, and placing your hand on the smooth body of your bike, you bid farewell to your favourite piece of machinery. Luckily for you, Connor offered to keep it safe in the Assassin’s garage for you whilst you are away - but still, you’ll miss it, almost as much as you’ll miss the Assassins. Both Connor and his senior, Achilles, are there to wave you off, the former enveloping your in a crushing bearhug whilst muttering something about missing you already. Mentor Achilles opts for a more formal approach, offering you a brisk handshake instead.

“Are we ready to go, then? The car’s waiting,” Kassandra appears at the door, impatient to get back home.

With a final farewell to your bike and friends, you skip out the door, dragging your suitcase behind you. Oh, you feel like a kid again, desperate to hop onto the plane to reach your holiday destination...well, you’re not going on holiday, but it's still Greece!

“Here, let me,” Kassandra lifts the full case into the car boot with ease, your muscles barely straining at such a task, “Nice bike you got there, I’ve got one similar back home. You can borrow the spare one when we get there if you’d like,”

Squeezing yourself into the seat between the siblings, your face lights up at that thought.

“I’d like that very much,” you hum, feeling horribly inadequate between the muscled Greeks. Although with your own Assassin training you are very fit, your lithe limbs are puny when compared to their bulky muscles.

As the taxi rolls into action,you three  natter away like old friends, even chatting with the sweet taxi driver in the front. Once in the airport, your check in is swift, and soon enough an air host is ushering you into a posh departure lounge, to where a few other Assassin agents linger. Eventually, you are given clearance, and are again ushered out onto the runway, where the Assassin’s private jet awaits you all. Brows raised at the internal refurb in the jet, you hark back to your last trip in the plane, all the way from London to New York, with only yourself for company. Chucking your hand luggage in the storage box - your suitcase having been bundled into the hold - you plop down of the first free chair you spot, marvelling at its plushness. The air hosts do their thing of point exits and whatnot, then your pilot comes over the intercom:

“Welcome all to this private flight, the time is currently 10:17, and in a few minutes we will taxi out to commence our flight,” the smooth voice greets them all, “This flight is approximately 10 hours 30 minutes, and we should arrive in Naples at around 06:40, their time,”

Craning your neck to find Kassandra, you breathe a deep sigh of relief when you spot the Spartan sat behind you.

“Hey Kass, if we’re landing in Naples, how’re we getting to Greece?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“First we will drive East to Bari, then we’ll get on my ship and sail there,” the response comes, “Normally we’d land straight in Greece, but since others are coming with us, it seemed easier to go straight to Italy,”

Nodding, you take another look around the plane, taking proper looks at the faces of the others’ for the first time since arrival. Alexios sits somewhere at the back, near Bayek. Across the jet, you sees the devilishly handsome Ezio Auditore snoring gently already, and behind him, the ever silent Arno Dorian - Mentor of the Frenchies - reads his book, not sparing a glance to anyone else on the plane. A jolt shudders through the plane, warning the Assassins of the imminent take off. Leaning back in your seat, you watch the receding land fade away beneath the clouds as the jet soars into the sky. Once the seat belt light flashes off, the unanimous click of almost all belts rattles around the fuselage, and immediately half of the Assassins are crowded around the built in bar.

Retrieving your bag, you curl back up on your seat, and begin to rummage through for your headphones. 10 hours to kill, and strictly speaking, you’re not big on the whole drinking stuff. As your fingers brush the soft velvet covered box at the bottom of your bag, you start in your seat: you’d forgotten you’d put that in there. With the aim to forget it, you frown as your fingers betray you and retrieve that damned box instead of your headphones. Your fingers tremble a little as you flip it open once more, the intricate pattern shining in the incandescent lighting. For a moment, your mind wanders back to that happy time. A candlelit dinner, a pair of smiling brown eyes, calloused hands clasping yours, this very necklace resting in its box - these images flit through your mind, spaced out by flames of the angst upon discovering your love’s disappearance on the very same night.

“What’s that you got?” Alexios appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning over your shoulder to look at the necklace.

“Hmm, nothing,” you hum, “Just something I got ages ago,”

Upon seeing the tree of life sigil, Alexios pauses, his brows flickering together for a moment before he remembers himself.

“It’s lovely” he squeezes onto the chair beside you, “Am I right in saying it’s a Celtic symbol?”

“The Yggdrasil is Norse I think, but the whole tree of life thing is probably used in Celtic mythology too,” you hum, repeating the same words your lover had told you long ago upon giving your the gift, “He...the one who gave it to me, I mean, he was into all his mythology and stuff - he was Irish,”

Lips pursed, Alexios nods again, his thick finger gently stroking the edge of the delicate pewter pendant.

“ _ Was _ ?” he queries, the golden rings of his eyes meeting yours, “What happened?”

Slamming the lid shut, you stuff the damned thing back into your bag - it’s no use getting caught up on the past, you need to look to the future.

“I’m not sure,” you whisper, “He went on a mission and never returned, Achilles and the others told me nothing...I heard Hope talking about him, but Liam shut her up as soon as I came near. I guess he’s dead, though I’m not sure why they wouldn’t tell me,”

What you don’t add is that the Yggdrasil necklace disappeared at the same time, only to return again after your encounter with the masked man who knew your name at the warehouse.

“Ouch, sorry to hear that...you can talk to me and Kass about it anytime, you know,” he ruffles your hair out its bun, “If we’re to work together we should all get to know each other and be friends - no secrets,”

Standing back up, Alxeios flashes you a knee weakening smile, and points to where the others Assassin’s are gathered.

“Now if you don’t mind,” he adjusts the strings of his red hoodie, “I promised Monsieur Dorian a drinking contest,”

Watching the muscled Spartan disappear into the bar area, you curl up on your chair and insert your headphones, pulling up your favourite playlist. Eyes gazing out the window, you lean back and let the soothing beats of Ghost’s  _ Nocturnal Me _ take you to the land of bliss slumber.

\--

The rest of the flight passes without incident, with you landing in Naples International at the precisely the predicted time. The car park outside if full of various goodbyes as the Assassins set off on their various journeys.

Alexios, Kassandra, and you are the last left waiting, until a smooth, black Jaguar car glides up next to you, it’s sleek, tinted windows rolling down.

“Get in losers, we’re going to Bari,” the woman inside laughs, looking at the trio over your wide brimmed sunglasses.

Immediately Kassandra has the door open and is practically sat on the lady’s lap, pressing firm kisses to her lips.

“Kyra babe, I’ve missed you,” she hums, gesturing for Alexios to put the cases in the boot.

As the two lovers take up the front seats, you and Alexios end up in the back again - not that you mind, as you both get to control the various snacks Kyra brought with them for the 3 hour drive.

\--

It’s mid morning when you finally arrive in Bari, having come to a stop in the car park by the port. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you take in the bright, sun soaked port, and smile at the rows of yachts that greet your.

“Last leg now,” Kassandra rolls from the car, stretching her stiff legs in the morning breeze.

Goraning to himself, Alexios pulls the rest of the cases from the boot, as Kyra hands over the car’s keys to the car rental guy, who immediately inspects the vehicle for damage. Bag of crisps clutched in your hands, you fall into step behind the others as they stroll along the port side.

“You’re going to love the Adrestia,” Kyra twists around to smile widely at you, “It’s so spacious and luxurious - you wouldn’t think it’s a boat once you’re inside!”

Kyra’s words prove to be true, as the moment you lay eyes on the luxurious yacht you simply fall in love with it. From the detailed artwork on the hull, that likens the ship to an Ancient Greek Warship, to the cornflower blue sails tied to its trio of masts - the Adrestia is truly a sight to behold.

As you board, you are greeted with a huge bear hug from a smallish man.

“Welcome back! Who’s this new face Barnabas sees here? Welcome to the Adrestia new lady,” the man waves, introduces himself as Barnabas.

“I’m (Name),” you speak, slightly bewildered by the man, “Nice to meet you Barnabas,”

In the middle of taking your cases into the yacht, Barnabas nearly jumps out of his skin when a panel in the cabin beeps loudly: 

“That’s never good”, he huffs, dropping the cases down.

All five of you jog into the cabin, where the radar panel in the centre beeps again, more urgently this time. Togetyour, you crowd around it. A flashing white dot sits at the far edge of the screen, telling them that another ship is approaching.

Storming over to the window, Alexios peers out in the general direction of the dot - spotting his target instantly.

“Templars,” he hisses, stepping aside to point at the distant yacht.

“We are all too worn out to fight, and Ezio will have our guts for garters if we start a fight on his soil...we’d better get out of here before they find us,” Kassandra suggests, turning back from the crimson sailed yacht to face the others, who all nod in agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll all be dead on our feet if we try to fight now, not to mention the long journey ahead,” you twirl around on the chair you have found yourself on, “Speaking of which, how long is it until we reach….wherever we’re going?”

“Athens,” Barnabas clarifies, consulting his GPS screen, “It should take only 15 hours,”

Only? Gods help them all.

Sighing at the prospect of more long journeys, you console yourself with the idea of being in goddamned Athens by the end of the night. As the silent engines of the Adrestia whirr into life, you grab a cool can of lemonade from the fridge, and join the others on the deck of the ship.

You pass the scarlet sailed ship in silence, all of you barely daring to breathe lest the Templars on board clock your presence. Tilting your head to the side, you freeze when you spot who exactly is disembarking from that ship.

A tall man walks off first, coming to a stop on the stone dock wall, his black shirt sticks to his broad shoulders with perspiration, and his dark hair is slicked to his head with it too.

The balmy air around you turns frigid as you looks upon the man, reluctantly spotting how  _ similar  _ he looks to your old lover...no, Shay Cormac died two years ago, there is no way he is stood in goddamned Bari right now.

Suddenly deciding the lemonade is too sweet for you, you hand it over to Alexios and enter the yacht once more. Maybe, maybe it’s just your travel tired eyes playing tricks on you, yes, it has to be - especially with the shock of seeing that necklace again...it’s not real.

Yes, maybe you're just too jet lagged, and your chat with Alexios on the plane...hmm, you needs some good sleep, then you’ll be fine.

Collapsing onto the soft bed of your private cabin, you barely have the time to shuck off your shoes before the welcome embrace of sleep claims you once more.

### 


	4. FOUR: THE MISSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head out on your first mission for the Greek Brotherhood

_ Three weeks later… _

Growling beneath you, the engine of the bike roars loudly as you push it to its limits on the dusted roads of Mykonos. Dry branches snap past your face as you take a sharp turn to the left, the wheels of the sleek, black bike jolting on the loose stones that await you.

That’s far enough.

Kicking the engine off, you jump to the ground and wheel it into a small grove - hiding it in the seclusion of the trees. After taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air, you replace the helmet with your hood - which is part of the new hoodie Alexios gifted you to welcome you to Greece.

The tight body piece is of a breathable, dark grey fabric, with the same material covering the arms. Although the hood is of the darkest black, the piping around the whole thing is a deep, jade green, that fades to a near black when in the darkness.

With the hood covering your features, you pull out the box from the back of the bike, and flick it open. Within barely 20 seconds you have the rifle assembled, loaded, and slung over your back.

Now all you need to do is infiltrate the Templar base, and take down their leader.

For weeks now you and Kassandra have been tracking down the low ranking Templar who’s been causing trouble all over the island, and finally it’s time to put him down.

“I’m coming for you, Loukas,” you chuckle to yourself.

It’s messed up really, how much you enjoys the ‘assassin’ part of your job. The others...don’t often speak about that part of it, they merely complete the necessary paperwork in silence, then ask for a spying job next - or even surveillance.

But not you, ever since Shay Cormac disappeared you’ve revelled in in the assassinations you’ve been sent on; in fact, Achilles believes you are the best sniper the Assassins have.

Booted feet silent, you traipse down the forgotten path that leads to your target. The Templar compound is, despite its remoteness, a modern complex of buildings, each white painted facade surrounding a central courtyard - where, from the sounds of it, some sort of party is taking place.

Knees bent, you shuffle ever closer to the compound, pausing only when a masked guard patrols past your hiding spot. Soon enough, the white stone walls are within your reach, and you take only a few seconds to look for the best path to the roof.

There, a quick shin up the drainpipe to that window ledge, then use that to hoist yourself up onto the balcony, then it’s just a short clamber to the roof. Sucking in a deep breath, you follow this very path up to the roof, your eyes closing in bliss once the evening sea breeze washes over your hooded form.

Surprisingly, the Templars have no one stationed on the rooftop, leaving the way clear for you to take your position. Belly flat on the roof, you adjust your rifle before resting it on the lip of the roof, so only the very end of it peeks over into the courtyard.

Even with all the revelry going on down below - must be someone’s birthday - it isn’t hard to spot your intended target. Loukas - as the Templar is named - is an unmistakably tall man, his slicked back black hair at complete odds with his wrinkling face.

Hmph,  _ dyed _ .

You watch him for some time, taking your sweet time with this job. Your last mission like this ended with a fail, there's no need to rush into this one.

Eventually, you grow bored with your own games, and refocus on Loukas. Ha, you doesn’t even need the scope for this kill.

You barely blink as you pulls the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through the air and straight into the heart of Loukas. Shuffling back to sit on your heels, you risk a peek over the edge to see the result of your handiwork.

Although a few guests are screaming, most of them are stood in shocked silence, flutes of champagne still clutched in your hands. In the very centre of the courtyard, his own glass shattered in a lake of his own blood, lies Loukas, his body half hidden by the navy suited man who leans over his body.

The man in the suit shouts something to the surrounding guests, the voice carried on the wind all too familiar to you. Brown hair falls over his shoulder as the suited man turns his head back, his eyes looking straight at you, as you recoil back with the sight of him.

“Alexios?” you breathe, scampering back from the edge.

A- _ fucking _ -lexios? What the absolute fuck is he doing here?

Within minutes you are back down the side of the building, and halfway down the path. In your hurry to leave, you nearly skip past your bike - flattening yourself into the grove of trees just in time to let a suave car roll past...one that you hadn’t noticed behind you.

Swearing and nearly shitting yourself, you leap onto your bike once more and kick it into action. The sun is just fading behind the last throes of dusk as you roar down the dusted roads - taking an entirely opposite route to the car. Thanks to that, you roll up at the Adrestia later than you should have - still, Barnabas has left the ramps down so you can easily roll onto the deck.

The moment you does so, the bearded man jogs out of his cabin, waves you a cheery  hello, and rushes back in to lift the ramps and cast off. You roll the bike into its miniature garage on the deck, parking it up next to Kassandra’s bike, and hang your helmet off the bars.

Rudely, you burst into the main cabin, where Kassandra - and Alexios - silently await your return.

“You took your time,” Alexios chuckles, as if absolutely nothing has just happened.

“Yeah,” you chips back, struggling to keep your tone civil, “I didn’t want any Templar scum following me back here,”

Taking a swig from her can of larger, Kassandra leans forward on the plush couch.

“Loukas is dead, though?” she asks, leaning back once more when you gets a returning nod, “Have fun?”

_ It was great _ , you think,  _ you should ask your brother. _

Some moments pass in silence, then eventually Kassandra rises up off her seat.

“Well, it’s late, I’m going to sleep - wake me when we reach Lesbos,” she laughs at her own joke - knowing full well you’re only going back to Athens - and bids the others goodnight.

No sooner as she has left, you have Alexios on his feet and pinned to the wall, hidden blade at his throat.

“You’re quite forward,” he tries to laugh, only to hiss once he feels the biting sting of the hidden blade at his throat.

“What were you doing at Loukas’ place?” you ask, applying more pressure when Alexios attempts to deny it, “Don’t. Don’t lie to me, I saw you, and you saw me,”

Silence.

Then;

“I’m not working for them, I’m just there on the sly, you know...an inside man,” his hands clamp around yours, removing them from near his neck, “I would never betray my sister, or the Assassins,”

His broad shoulder bumps yours out of the way as he storms to the door, pausing only when you clears your throat. Loudly.

“Why all the secrecy, then?” you asks, “You told me on the way here - what was it again - if we’re to work together, no secrets, hmm. What happened to that? Does Kassandra know?”

Not bothering to turn around, Alexios drums his fingers on his thigh - which now you look at him, he’s still in the navy trousers of his suit, even if his has swapped out his shirt.

“(Name), listen, I think I’m onto something there, they’re planning something big soon - and by pretending to be on the inside, I know I’ll found out quicker,” he explains, “I haven’t told Kass...infiltration and all that is not her style, you know that,”

It’s true. Kassandra isn’t one for sneaking about much, she works on more of a kill-first-ask-questions-later basis,

“When’s your next...meeting with them?” you question, flicking your blade back in.

“In two days, in Athens, it’s a gathering for anyone who’s anyone in the Order” he clarifies, finally turning to look at you, “And no-I’m not taking you with me,”

“Yes you are,” you prod back, “I want in on your spying...and besides, it’s been awhile since I went to a party,”

Knowing he’s defeated, Alexios merely shakes his head in exasperation, before he too goes to bed, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Alexios is up to something, and you will get to the bottom of it whether it kills you...or him.

### 


	5. FIVE: THE PARTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin your first infiltration mission with Alexios

Since your arrival in Piraeus - the port just to the south of Athens - you three Assassins have spent most of your time lounging around on the top deck. Although Kyra, Alexios, and you spent most of your time sunbathing, Kassandra did do some work, until the hot sun made it unbearable to do anything, least of all work on the bikes. With Barnabas below deck getting some shuteye, the group are left to your own devices on the top.

“Your tan’s coming along nicely,” Krya chuckles, pointedly staring at the pinkish sections of burnt skin along your arms.

“Shh you, I forgot to pack sun cream,” the reply comes from the shadows of the doorway, where you linger with a tube of aloe-vera.

After scrabbling around for an umbrella for poor you, the Greek trio allow themselves to be introduced to the wonders of Uno - which, to your surprise, they have never heard of.

“You guys are in for a treat,” you wink, dealing out the cards in quick succession.

The first round passes without much incident, with you throwing in only the ‘friendly’ cards. Its when Barnabas joins them - with a plate of grilled aubergine and meat for them to share - that things get nasty. Explaining how to use the new cards, you introduce them all to the glory of pick-up-two and pick-up-four cards. With a smirk of satisfaction on your face, you sit back and watches as the assassins’ compostures crumble around you.

“What do you mean pick up four? I’m your girlfriend Kass!” Kyra mewles, throwing down her cards in rage not two seconds after excitedly yelling ‘UNO’.

To make matters worse, you are able to return Alexios’ smug grin when he places down his take two card - by placing another three take-two's of your own which you grabbed from the pile.

By the end of the game, Barnabas is the one to win - even though he doesn’t realise it at first:

“Oh, I’m out then,” he mutters, sadly playing his empty hands to show the others.

“No that means you won!” Alexios explains, clapping the aged captain on the back, who now grins excitedly.

“Really?” he laughs, “Barnabas lives to fight another day! We must play this more often!”

The others agree profusely, showering you in thanks for introducing them to the game, and vowing to play another round tomorrow. Eventually, Alexios slips off the boat, muttering something about needing to go shopping, leaving you girls alone once more - as Barnabas has gone to check the yacht’s engines.

Rubbing aloe-vera onto a particularly sore patch of sunburn, you lounge on the deckchair set out for you, a limp sigh escaping your as a soft breeze drifts in across the still harbour. Seagulls soar overhead, their everlasting cries like the peals of bells to your ears as you recline, already drifting off to sleep. Unfortunately, your bliss is interrupted by your own thoughts - of the party you is to attend tonight with Alexios.

An excited shiver pulses through you, tonight will be your first ever time working undercover - and if that isn’t enough experience to promote your to mentor status, you don’t know what is. After settling yourself down again, your half slumber is stopped - again - by the sensation of something cool pressing against your leg.

“You’ll burn to a crisp out here like that,” Alexios hums, pressing the can of lemonade into your outstretched hands.

“Oh, cheers,” you thank, taking a swig of the sweet liquid, hmmmm, it’s icy, fresh from the fridge - just how you like it.

Using the movements of adjusting the overhead sun umbrella to disguise his actions, Alexios leans in close to you.

“Tonight, the only way I can get you in is if you’re my date,” he whispers, so only you may hear him, “To them, you know nothing of Assassins or Templars, and you must only call me Deimos,”

“Okay,” you nod, “If you’re Deimos, am I Phobos?”

“No, don’t joke,” he mutters, frowning at you, “I will introduce you as Agape for now, no one uses their real names at these meetings,”

Taking another sip of your lemonade, you nod again. Ah, a secret spy name for your secret spy mission - this is going to be fun. After finishing off your drink, you excuse yourself under the pretence of taking a nap, and head to your cabin. Waiting for you, on the bed, lies a blank shopping bag.

For a second your blood runs cold, until you realise it must be a gift from Alexios - for tonight. With the widest grin on your face, you plop down on the bed and gently lift the contents of the package out and onto your lap. Peeling away the protective tissue paper, you nearly scream with delight as you unfold the fashionable jumpsuit -  _ designer _ . With the item held in front of you, you stoke down the thin, loose black material, pausing only when you reach the belt at the middle.

The buckle is of a pale bronze colour, the tree design on it matching the pendant on that damned necklace of yours. Oh for fuck’s sake.

Glaring into the bag, you pull out the little note at the bottom, reading the contents on it.

I saw this before and thought it would suit you, it will go well with that nice necklace of yours I think, - Deimos.

Shrugging, you realise that Alexios doesn’t mean anything by it...after all he doesn’t know exactly what that necklace and Yggdrasil mean to you, it’s hardly his fault. With the promise of showering later, you fold up your clothes for tonight neatly, and curl up on your bed, all too ready for the soothing claim of sleep.

\--

Shivering under the patter of water, you use the shower’s coldest setting to wake yourself up again. Damn that was a good nap, especially if those creases in your arm are anything to go by.

Eventually, the iced water does you no good, and you turn it back to warm to lather up your hair and body. With a towel wrapped around your body, you sit on your bed, hairdryer blasting away at your hair until it’s golden, silken locks are dry and shiny. Making sure every part of your is dry, you shimmy into the jumpsuit, frowning a little at the lowness of its V neckline - it’s down near your damn belly button, but at least the red welts of your previous sunburn have faded somewhat, enough so they are barely visible. With your face painted with minimal makeup, you has just finished tying your hair into an up do when Alexios -  _ Deimos  _ \- peeks around the door.

“You nearly ready?” he asks, slipping into the room, and looking at you through the mirror.

He approaches slowly, confusing you until you spot where he’s heading for, and opens the green velvet box on your bedside table.

“May I?” he asks, taking the necklace from its box, “Do you like your gift?”

“It’s lovely, thank you,” you replie, allowing him to clasp the delicate chain around the back of your neck.

The pendant bounces off your skin, coming to a rest in the exposed valley between your breasts. Alexios can’t help but look at it for a moment, before he pauses to adjust his own suit.

“We’d better get going then,” he announces, offering you his arm.

You’ve barely made it two steps down the corridor when Kassandra appears out of nowhere, hands on her hips. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you looks to Alexios, who smoothly smiles at his half sister.

“And where might you two be off at this late hour, all dressed up?” you asks, blocking the doorway to the deck.

“I, unlike you Kass, have many friends around here, they invited me to a party,” Alexios explains, laughing off his sister’s concern, “(Name) is my plus one,”

Brows raised, Kassandra merely nods, “Ah, at least bring back a bottle of good wine for me,”

Once Kassandra is gone, both Alexios and you breathe out a sigh of relief. That was close.

Together, you move off the boat and towards the waiting car - the same sleek, black one that nearly ran your over back on Mykonos.

“Good evening, Deimos, and…?” the driver opens the door for you, gesturing wildly to you.

“This is my date for tonight, you will call her Agape,” Deimos tells him, slipping in the back seat beside you.

As the driver gets in to begin the drive north, you two spies sit in silence. It is only when he gives you a concerned look through the mirror do you shuffle closer. Taking his cue, Deimos slings a casual arm over his Agape -  _ you  _ \- his lips close to your ear and looking for all the world like a lover whispering dirty thoughts to his lady.

Instead, he mutters a harsh; “Remember what I told you earlier,  _ Agape _ ,”

Pasting on a sultry smile, you lean into his warmth, half enjoying the security of him, half hating his brashness with you.

### 


	6. SIX: THE SECRET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover Alexios' secret

Glittering and shimmering with the endless spotlights and chandeliers, the hotel you arrive at is stupidly grand and fancy - well, you hardly expected anything less, is was built with Templar money after all.

Throwing a quiet thanks to the driver, Alexios slips out the car, extending an arm to help you out after him. No sooner as you vacate it, the car shoots off, immediately replaced by whichever Templar next to arrive.

“Good Evening, Deimos,” the doorman greets, the tiny bronze cross on his lapel marking out his allegiance, “And who is your lovely lady companion?”

The question comes out friendly enough, but both of you know enough to be sure of the meanings behind it; you are an intruder.

“This is my girlfriend, tonight we call her Agape,” Alexios explains without pause, his arm coming to rest around your waist. You hate how it brings a flush of warmth to your cheeks - but you’ve not been touched my a man since...since Cormac.

Raising his brows, the doorman pushes open the door for them.

“You big shots and your nicknames, eh...have fun,” he laughs, already turning to the next guests.

Freezing at those words, Alexios quickly smooths his features out and drifts into the hotel lobby, where other Templars linger - all in various states of sobriety. Not spotting any of his associates, Alexios shuffles you towards the gold painted reception room, where a vast buffet spread awaits.

Mouth watering at the delicious foods, you struggle to control the grumbling of your stomach as you grab a plate, piling it high with Greek delicacies. You barely notices the absence of Alexios - who has finally found his friends - until you hears a voice from behind you.

“Ah, a fellow fan of Moussaka,” the speaker calls out, gesturing to your plate of the dish.

Nodding dumbly, you struggle to swallow the mouthful you’ve been chewing when you sees the face of the speaker. God damn you: it's the American Grandmaster, Haytham Kenway - the very man you failed to kill not a month ago. The sight of him sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, but you must calm it down - you are undercover, after all.

“I’ve never seen you at these meetings before, so I’d garner that you’re new here,” Haytham continues to talk, grabbing himself a plate of the delicious aubergine and lamb, “Allow me the privilege of knowing your name, I’m Haytham,”

“It’s nice to meet you Haytham,” you get out, finally swallowing your mouthful, “Tonight, I am Agape,”

At the name, Haytham pauses, beckoning your to follow as he moves away from the table.

“Agape, that’s a Greek name if I ever heard one, but going off your accent alone - you’re clearly a Brit,” he muses, “Tell me, what’s another Brit doing here, in Athens?”

Retaining your calm smile, you internally panic - he’s suspicious, damn him he’s suspicious.

“You got me there, Haytham,” you laugh, hoping this act will get him off your back, “Agape is not my true name, but my boyfriend Deimos insisted on giving me that name tonight, said it part of the fun,”

“Ah, Deimos! I have not spoken with him properly for some time, do tell him I would like a chat before the night is up,” Haytham doffs his cap at your, as he scoots off to greet some other Templar, leaving you to frown at your Moussaka. So, Alexios has been speaking to Haytham for ‘some time’, has he? Hmm, what was that lie he spun you; he’s only spying?

A loose sigh escapes your as you wind your way through the crowds, back to where Alexios chats with some other guests. Patiently, you wait until they finish chatting to speak, shovelling angry forkfuls of food in your mouth as you linger.

“Master Kenway said he’d like to speak with you,” you mutter once his companions have drifted off.

Taking the plate from your hands and slamming it on the table beside them, Alexios blinks at you, the rage boiling in his eyes evident.

“He spoke to you?” he snaps, ushering you out of the grand, golden room and into the dusky gardens, “What else did he say?”

At your escorts reaction, your eyes narrow, and you take a step closer to him, disregarding of his fine tuxedo.

“You nearly shat yourself when I mentioned Haytham,” you hiss, “You’re not spying here, are you? You’re in with them, aren’t you? You’re a fucking Templar too,”

With a final glance around the garden, checking for any onlookers, Alexios grips your shoulders and shoves you against the stone wall, not caring that the corner digs into the skin of your back.

“You- you don’t get to make accusations like that” he snarls, elbows pinning you against the callous wall.

Save for you two, the lantern lit garden is utterly still and silent, its endless flowers and olive trees covering the sea of stars high above.

“No denial then...you told me no secrets, and once again you’ve lied to me, to the Brotherhood,” you grip at his arms, nails digging into his skin through the sleeves of his blazer.

“Be quiet,” he intones, “I abandoned them and their way of thinking long ago - I work for the Templars now,”

Hissing beneath your breath, you struggle to break free from his imprisonment, only to be further wedged as he uses his leg to pin you in place.

“Traitor,” you mutter, drawing blood with your nails.

“Listen, sweetheart,” harsh, cold fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, “I know a lot about you, and about those you love - or loved - and I can tell you now that the Assassins have been lying to you,”

Backlit by the burning glow of the lanterns, Alexios’ eyes turn molten as they trail down your chest, to where the Yggdrasil pendant rests. His fingers follow the same path as his eyes, sending involuntary shivers of goosebumps rippling over your skin at the lightness of his touch.

“What?” you hum, forgetting your anger at him for a second, “What? No, no, you don’t get to blatantly lie to me any more!”

Finally, you break free from his grip, and storm away from him, back to the door of the hotel. You are met there by a stoic Haytham, who looks as if he’s been there a while.

“You think I lie? Fine, ring Achilles now and ask him where Shay Cormac is,” Alexios yells after your, trapping you between him and Haytham.

Eyes looking anywhere but the two men, you stiffen at the mention of  _ his  _ name.

“Shay Cormac is dead, he died on his last mission for the Assassins, he died before I could say goodbye,” you whisper, voice cracking at your own words.

“When was his funeral? Where was his body?” Alexios continues, his voice harsh and loud, “And where did your lovely necklace go after he ‘died’?”

The pewter pendant burns against your skin, feeling heavier than the entire world. Vision blurred with tears, you slam past Haytham, pushing past your Templars until you reaches the doorman.

Wordlessly, he buzzes for your car to pick your up - which it does in record time.

Far too soon for your liking, you are back on the deck of the Adrestia, your face splotchy with tears, which the dusk breeze blows away with cool fingers. Looking out across the still waters, you frown at the reflection of the stars when your fingers betray you once more, and you phone works its way into your hands.

Without thinking, you flick on the screen, coming to a stop when you reach the contacts page. It’ll be early afternoon for the Assassins in New York, quiet hours.

Your finger stabs the call button before cowardice can stop you, and you press it to your ear, involuntarily shivers as you hears the click of your call being answered. 

“I need to speak to Achilles, now ,” you order, before the person on the other end can speak.

“(Name),” the unimpressed voice of Hope Jensen comes over the line, “You know this line is for emergencies only? A chat with Achilles is hardly-”

“I said NOW,” you shriek, earning a few odd looks from passers-by on the docks.

Judging by the silence on the phone, Hope has listened for once.

“(Name)? It’s late in Athens, what are you calling this old man for?” the voice of Achilles comes next.

Sucking in a deep breath, you ready yourself to speak. It’s now or never.

“Where is Shay Cormac?” you finally ask, tears threatening to spill again, “And before you tell me he’s dead...I know he isn’t,”

A little, white lie - but if it gets your the information you need…

“Oh,” comes the reply, “How did you-”

“That doesn’t matter, just tell me where he is,”

Silence.

“I can’t. I don’t know. He ripped his locator out long ago,” Achilles sighs, relenting to your harsh tone, “But it would be wise of you to avoid looking for him, (Name), he betrayed us for the Templars - he is the enemy now. You’d do well to forget-”

You don’t bother listening to the rest of his words. You hang up the call with a stab to the screen, and drop your phone into the sea without a second’s thought. That’s enough of that.

Silently, you slip into your cabin, shedding your jumpsuit in a matter of seconds. The makeup is wiped off, and your hair is swept into a more utilitarian ponytail. With a face like stone, you pull on your trousers and a top, covering it with your new hoodie.

You nearly storm out straight after tugging your boots on, but you rush back to remember your twin hidden blades. The first one goes on your arm, but you wait to put your second one on.

Flicking the blade out, you position it on your other arm, right where the scar of your locator chip is. Just a quick stab in, then flick it out. Oh, this is going to be painful.

Biting back a scream, you stab your arm, twisting your blade to flick out the locator chip - as planned. The chip is deeper than expected, but still easy-ish to get out. A quick stop in the first aid bay has the hole cleaned out and dressed, before your other bracer and blade go over the top of it.

The Assassins can no longer track you, nor can they contact you. You are free to roam as you please, and the first place you head to - by memory of the car trip - is to the hotel, where the droves of Templars await.

Luckily for you, Alexios and Haytham are still in the garden when you arrived, dropping in from above on silent feet.

“You’re back,” Alexios mutters, unsurprised.

“I am, and I want you to take me to Shay Cormac,” you ask, keeping to the shadows with your hood up.

Silently, Haytham rises to his feet.

“Deimos here has told me much about you, as has Shay in the past. I can see it in your eyes now: you are done with the Brotherhood,” Haytham nods to you, “We will take you to him, but we have a few jobs for you, too,”

Hm, in doing so, you will betray your order and all you have worked for. But they are scoundrels, they have lied to you for too damn long.

“Whatever you want, consider it done,” you purr over the racing of your heart.

This is it, you have abandoned your cause, joined the Renegades - Shay, Alexios...and now you.


	7. SEVEN: THE TEMPLARS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haytham Kenway has an interesting proposal for you...

With black bags beneath your eyes, you spill out of the jet and onto the tarmac of the runway of LaGuardia Airport in New York, followed by an impeccably dressed Haytham Kenway, who hastily pulls the shades over his eyes at the glare of the sun.

“Weather was better in Greece,” you grumble, following the Templar Grandmaster with heavy feet.

With your hood drawn over your face, lest you be spotted by any Assassin, you bundle into the suave car next to Haytham, and come to sit next to another gentleman. Although he is dressed in a simple suit, looking ever the businessman, his eyes hold that twinkle of cruelty, a sneer of cold command lines his lips, and even the confrontational stance of his shoulders mark him out as a powerful man, no doubt with a cruel streak.

“Master Kenway, it is a pleasure to have you back,” the man greets, those dark eyes of his regarding you with an air of suspicion, “And I see you’ve bought in an Assassin...and no handcuffs at all, you’re getting trusting Master Kenway,”

Before Haytham can even reply, you flick back your hood and wink at both of the Templars.

“No handcuffs? God, I’m missing out - didn’t you know I’m into that?” you hum, your voice dripping with a sickly sweetness that surprises the men to no end.

“Oh, okay,” Haytham coughs, his cheeks reddening a little, “This is (Name)...both Alexios and Shay have vouched for her, and she will now start doing jobs for us, until I see fit to make her a Templar,”

Hearing Shay’s name, your heart flutters a little - you are so close to seeing him again! With a warm grin, you stick your hand out at the man, prompting him to take it with a brisk shake.

“Lee, Charles Lee,” he introduces himself

“Nice to meet you,” you nod, remembering him from the lists of known Templar’s in Achilles’ office. 

The rest of the ride is mind numbing, with Charles filling in Haytham on the affairs of the Templars here - with only his asking after Deimos serving to interest you. Eventually, you roll into a secluded car park, beneath what you recognise as a Templar stronghold.

After slipping into the lift with the others, you find yourself lounging in a chair opposite Haytham’s desk, waiting for your first assignment.

Ah, the Assassin instincts within your are screaming for your to sneak, loot, and kill - yet you remain still, watching as a flicker of annoyance passes over Haytham’s face as he reads yet another email. 

“Now, (Name),” he slams shut the lid of his laptop, his hands clasped across the top of them as he stares your down, “By working for us, you are betraying your own order. There are few who have swapped sides and lived to tell the tale - one being Shay Cormac,”

At the mention of his name, you sit up a little straighter.

“And soon, I will have done so too,” you smile, knowing that your words sound too cocky, too self confident - but you’ll get to Cormac if you have to rip the limbs off the devil himself.

Ignoring this comment, Kenway continues: “Now, Cormac is currently on a very important mission, one I should like you to help us with,”

Rubbing the sweat off your hands, you gently take the thick file handed to you, and begin to flicker through it. Each page is highlighted with an image of an Assassin, a thick red line through them if they are dead, nothing if not. To your surprise, you find one of those crimson steaks through the kindly face of Kesegowaase - the Assassin you’d last seen heading out into the countryside to help with the Brotherhood out there. That line...Shay must’ve got him, then.

“As you can see, some have already been killed, but if you’d like to turn the page,” he doesn’t finish his words, instead opting to let you see for yourself.

It doesn’t come as a surprise really, seeing your face and name on the list. After all, you were lined up to become a master, and considered the best shooter in the Brotherhood. But, then a dark thought crosses your mind...but if you hadn’t switched sides, would Shay have killed you? Would the man who had once promised to marry you kill you?

“I would have been next,” you mutter, turning the page to the next face.

“Yes, I ordered Shay to stand down after I spoke with you and Alexios - he should have already killed the next face on the list by now,” he muses, as if talk of murder is no big thing, “But I would like you to take on the next one in this list, just to speed things up a little,”

Wordlessly, you flicks over to the next page, where the most likely dead face of Adewale grimaces at you, followed by a youthful, smiling Hope Jensen. Hm, the picture must be old then, Hope almost never smiles nowadays.

“Tonight she will be attending a gala event in lower Manhattan. Tickets have, unfortunately, all gone - but I’m sure you can find a way,” he explains, “Go rest until then, after your mission is completed report back here - oh, before you go,”

Rising from his seat, Kenway reaches up and pulls a smooth, wooden box off the top of the cupboard. With his back to your, he opens it up and beckons your over.

“It’s Cormac’s spare...look after it,” Haytham leaves you in possession of the box, which contains a sleek, expensive looking rifle, much higher quality than the one the Assassins gave you.

There it is, the weapon you will use to kill a former ally. One bullet from this will put your one step towards finding Shay Cormac again. A sickening smirk twists its way onto your face, as you slam the lid of the box shut. Turning heel, you stride out of the room, already planning on how you will take Hope Jensen down.

Just one bullet, just one step.

\---

Bright lights shine far below, as the gala kicks off. From the balcony near the top of a looming skyscraper, you set up your borrowed rifle once more. For the first time, it will not be a Templar who meets the jacketed lead of your bullet - but an Assassin.

Through the scope, you spy various guests, many of whom are Assassins - but no sign of Hope yet...ah! There she is, clad in a musky pink gown, hand laced through Liam O’Brien’s.

“There you are,” you hum, fixing your aim onto the distant figure. Your finger strays over the trigger, just one press and this mission will be over.

“Don’t move a muscle,” a voice calls from behind your, its irish twang followed by the click of a loaded pistol, “Now what have we here?”

Muscles stiffening, you freeze at the noise, your head twisting around to see who’s found you. A black mask greets you, a head covered by a black hood. You know instantly who it is.

“Hello Shay,” you murmur, your voice low and near silent, at odds with the pulsing joy coursing through you.

Pulling down his mask, the Templar reveals himself to you- his deep brown eyes carry that same admiration as years ago, those rugged lips are still chapped, and flecks of stubble still line his cheekbones.

“(Name)..I knew it was you all those weeks ago...but- what are you doing here? Master Kenway ordered me to stand down from hunting you, I thought something had happened,” he stammers, lowering his gun as you rise to meet him.

“Yeah, Kenway sent me on this mission to help you along,” you explain, still keeping your distance - even though you want nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms.

Three fucking years, and your first conversation with him is this.

His face blanks for a moment, before his eyes widen.

“You’re working for Kenway?” Shay breathes, his brows rising up.

However, you have no time to reply; your words are cut off by the rough exhalation of a third person.

“Really (Name)? You betrayed us too? I thought you were better than this,” the person utters, their voice harsh and cruel.

Both you and Shay turn to the talking shadow, who steps into the light of the balcony with a triumphant smirk.

“Hope? But you’re…” you start, only to be cut off as Hope raises her hand, the dull orb of a smoke grenade clutched between your fingers.

“Down there? Nah, but I’d say that girl looks the spit of me,” she cackles, “As for you two - well, it’s about time I got rid of you both, you Shay have caused enough problems for the Brotherhood - and you, (Name), will cause them soon,”

Before either Shay or you can react, Hope has dropped the smoke bomb, sending choking, white smoke swirling into the air. Seeing is impossible. Breathing is impossible.

Yet the painful truth of Hope’s blades and bullets are so, so possible.


	8. EIGHT: THE CHASE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Shay reunite, however your meeting doesn't go as planned

Spluttering and coughing, you attempt to cover your nostrils with your hoodie sleeve, only to have your hand ripped away by another. The following punch to your face confirms it is Hope who wishes you to choke, as does the blow to your gut which follows.

With the pain resonating through your body, you crumple to the floor, your streaming eyes cracked open just enough to see the tangled silhouettes of Hope and Shay fighting precariously close to the balcony edge.

By now, the heavy tendrils of the fog have begun to fade, allowing you to scrabble about the floor for your rifle. Teeth gritted, you aim the rifle at Hope, the sounds of the scuffle falling on deaf ears as you focuses in on her chest.

Your finger twitches over the trigger, flickering away when Hope twists around so now the gun points at Shay. A cry of rage escapes Hope as she manages to land a blow on Shay, winding him long enough for her to drop another smoke bomb. Mask pulled over his face, Shay’s feet pound into the encroaching whiteness, pausing only when the screaming of a bullet arcs past his ear, heading straight for the retreating shadow before him.

Reloading as fast as you can, you don’t stop to look as Hope drops from the edge of the balcony like a stone - the bullet made its mark, but your aim wasn’t good enough. The damn thing barely grazed her arm.

“Give chase,” you yell at Shay, as you barrel onto the roof of the next building.

With a grunt of effort, Shay drops down to the street below, giving chase from there as you jump over roof after roof, following them from afar.

Gunshots ring out over the dark streets, issued by Shay from one of his pistols. These ones are better shot, hitting Hope deep in her midriff, and slowing her down enough for Shay to trip her up and get her on the ground.

With Hope writhing on the floor, you shimmy down the side of the building and drop down beside Shay.

“Pity, the two of you had so much potential,” Hope’s tone remains condescending, even as you bleeds out on the tarmac.

Knowing his old mentor doesn’t have long, Shay simply turns away, leaving you stood alone by Hope.

“Come on, you haven’t got long, the Assassins will find her soon enough,” Shay calls behind him, waiting for you to follow.

As you move to walk away, Hope coughs out a harsh laugh.

“Traitor,” she spits, “You are the lowest of the low, the...the Assassins will kill you,”

Whipping around, you crouch by Hope, taking her head in your hands.

“Talk about being low..you lied to me for years about Shay, about the man I love - the Assassins betrayed me long before I betrayed them,” you hum, your voice lilting and sickly.

Without another word, you flick out of the hidden blade on your wrist, sending the sharp, cold metal edge singing straight into Hope’s neck.

Not even bothering to wipe your blade, you rise from your crouch, grabbing your rifle as you go, and saunter off behind Shay, leaving Hope’s body to be found later.

\--

Striding onto the deck of the Morrigan, Shay heads straight into his own quarters - leaving you with a very confused Gist.

“Aren’t you that Assassin lass Shay was chasing?” he questions, trying to hide the hand resting on his gun.

Eyes on the familiar red sails, you loosen a sigh and nod slowly.

“Probably...hey, this ship was in Italy, in Bari? We saw you there,” you point to the sails, “I saw you and Shay go on land...Alexios was insistent on us leaving quickly,”

Relaxing a little, Gist comes over to stand beside you, his breaths misting in the cool night air.

“Well, Alexios told us you would be in Bari on that day, we’d intended to arrive earlier...Shay had wanted to speak to you,” Gist explains, his voice loud against the night, “We arrived too late, and that Kassandra lady would have strung us all up had we come to you,”

You stand in silence for some time, until Gist saunters back to the wheel of the red sailed yacht, muttering for you to ‘go to him’. After some moments of sulking, you remember the pewter pendant against your neck, and quickly slip into the interior of the ship.

Your feet patter on the wooden floor, as you follow the narrow corridor to what you assume to be Shay’s rooms. With a knock, you wait at the door, and are greeted by the click of a shower switching off.

On the other side of the wooden panel, sound of approaching footsteps grow louder. Swallowing down the bubbling fears inside you, you steel yourself for the door opening. Today was not how you’d imagined reuniting with Shay...not at all.

“You’re still here? I thought you’d have gone back to Kenway,” Shay hums, opening the door. Seeing Shay stood only in a damp towel, streams of hot water running in little rivulets down the marble cut muscles of his torso - skirting around the stark skin of the scar on his shoulder -  you struggle to keep your eyes on his face, which is framed by damp, dark hair that drips down his cheeks.

Damn him.

“No…” you swallow, again, mentally slapping yourself for your damned wandering eyes, “No, I needed to talk to you, can I come in?”

Wordlessly, Shay nods, standing aside to let you in. As he disappears back into the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the bed, twirling the necklace around your fingers. The room is pretty, if not simple, it’s walls painted a soothing white, with the back one a faint blue. For a room of this side, the bed is huge - and damn comfortable. Lost in your thoughts about the comfort of the bed, you doesn’t notice as Shay - now thankfully dressed in all black - comes to sit beside you, his hand taking your own.

“Before we start talking, I want to apologise,” Shay presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, “I want to apologise for leaving, for not coming back to find you, to tell you...I thought they would have told you lies, poisoned you against me...When Alexios told me you thought I was dead...I...I just had to find you, that’s why I went to Bari,”

“Oh,”

“Then I nearly went to find you in Greece, but Alexios rang me...then Haytham called to say he’d seen you - and now you’re here!” he sighs, “But I’m sorry, you, for not finding you,”

Offering the necklace to him, you nod at it; “What about this? I found it in my apartment after Achilles announced my transfer...was it not you who put it there?”

A shake of the head is your reply.

“That’s Alexios’ handiwork,” he explains, “He’s been playing cupid for a while”

Blushing, you purse your lips together at thought. Alexios? Cupid ? That’s the oddest thing you’s thought of in a long while.

“Do you think we could have a second chance? To be together, I mean,” you ask, “After all, we never finished or anything,”

With a tearful smile, Shay presses his forehead against yours and mumbles quietly.

“We do have another chance, and we should take it,” he murmurs, now clasping both your hands between his.

Loosening a sigh, you lean into his warmth, nodding against his words.

“Good,” you mutter, before quickly pulling away.

“We need to check in with Kenway,” you announce, watching as Shay mutely nods and pulls out his phone, ready to call the Grandmaster.

Hand straying back up to the pendant around your throat, you watch the dark haired Templar before your. He’s different, now.

Where he once was warm and gentle, he is harsh and cold - but that potential warmth is still there, albeit behind a wall of unbreakable ice.

This mission of his, this revenge and murder of ex-comrades, has changed him. His abruptness has unsettled you, and you nearly spring out of your skin when Shay slams his phone down on the bed, eyes shut for a brief moment.

“We have our orders,” Shay offers no more explanation, other than; “We sail at dawn,”

Slowly, the dreary weight of tiredness settles on your shoulders, and it’s all you can do to crawl into the arms of your once-again lover, eyelids already drooping shut.


	9. NINE: THE FINALE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of yours and Shay's final mission  
> (song at end is sunburn by MUSE)

_ 3 days later _

Wearing only your hoodie, you shiver on the deck of the Morrigan with Gist - both awaiting the return of Shay and Haytham. Even from the ship, you can feel the ruptures of the arctic precursor site - and hear the singing of ice shards as they shatter inside.

Damn, something must’ve gone wrong.

You huff, your breath turning to ice in the air.

“How long are they taking?” you ask to no one, nearly slipping as you pace across the frosted deck.

“Calm down you,” Gist attempts to soothe you, but the fear lacing his own voice serves only to make it worse, “I’m sure they’re fine - they’re probably on their way out now,”

“No,” you snap back, still pacing, “It’s been too long, I’m...I’m going to go after them,” 

Before Gist can think of stopping you, you have dropped down onto the soft snow, and are running towards the looming glacier. Wincing against the cold walls, you rush into the first tunnel, only to be met by the approaching body of another.

Achilles.

Swearing at you, Achilles puyous your aside, not caring for the blades at his wrists, and storms out, closely followed by Haytham Kenway.

“Go look for Shay! He might need help,” he calls out, rushing after the Assassin mentor.

With a nod, you peels yourself off the wall - ignoring the dull pain in your side. Damn Achilles, he must’ve punched you when you collided. The iced ground trembles beneath you as you race through tunnel after tunnel, following the distant sound of yelling.

“I found Hope’s body, Shay!” the first voice calls out, coming into view as you round a corner, “Was it you, Shay, tell me?”

Liam’s words are punctuated by gunshots, ones which both you and Shay duck away from.

“No-Liam, I-” Shay struggles to get out, wedging himself between two stalagmites.

“We had to!” you peek over a boulder, shooting at Liam with your pistol.

The bullet ricochets away from him, but it is still far too close for comfort for Liam - as he begins retreating towards a platform overlooking the waterfall.

“NO!” the word tears out of Liam, “You chose to,”

Both Shay and you falter at that; at the pure anguish lining his voice, at the crack towards the end, at the tears glistening in his eyes. He loved her, you know it, almost as surely as you love Shay - he loved her... but, no, now is not the time for sentimentality - now is the time for killing.

“Your luck has run out, Shay,” Liam yells, his voice echoing over the roar of the river, “A cold grave awaits the both of you,”

The two Templars chase after him, the black clad Shay reaching Liam first. And you stops, toeing the line of the crack in the platform. In front of your, the former brothers struggle to down one another, utterly unaware of the growing crack beneath their feet.

“It’s going to fall!” you yell out, attempting to grab onto Shay to pull him back.

Too late, you’s too damn late.

Their platform shatters, sending Shay and Liam plunging down the waterfall.

A cry wracks out of you, and you fall down, knees crunching on the ice. That stabbing pain in your side returns, and the splatter of crimson on the ice darkens.

“Damn you...Achilles,” you presses a hand to where you assumed you’d been punched - only now realising he stabbed you.

Damn that man.

Hearing nothing from the bottom of the waterfall, you drag yourself to your feet, stumbling back through the tunnels and out into the bright light - where Haytham has Achilles on the floor.

“No!” a figure calls - Shay!

Seeing your lover alive, you push down the pain, and force yourself to stand straight, following him to where Achilles lays.

“Why not?” Haytham keeps the gun pointed at the mentor - now the mentor of nothing, of a broken order.

Red shadows pass your eyes as Shay responds - rendering his words silent to you. The visions of your comrades swim before your eyes, twisting as you shudder visibly.

“Valid point,” Haytham’s words reach you as you stumbles forwards, gun pointed at Achilles.

The weakness in your legs overcomes you, forcing your down; the force of your hand landing on the ice pulls the trigger, sending a bullet screaming straight into the stricken Achilles’ knee.

“Never forget what has happened here,” you grit out, each word hurting more than the last.

Biting back his own pain, Achilles rolls to face your - ignoring the two Templars who are halfway to the Morrigan.

“I won’t...but the world will,” he begins crawling away, spotting the blood on you’s jacket. His face softens for a moment as he realises what happened - his hidden blade caught you when you collided.

“(Name)? Are you alright?” Shay asks, running over from the Morrigan.

“No,” you falter, your arms giving way as you crumple to the floor.

Crunching footsteps - running - echo into your ears, and your cheek sticks to the white snow beneath your.

“(Name)? What happened?” Shay’s voice is nearer now, yet fainter - so far away.

A numb coldness overtakes your body, and your vision fades to black. And you feel no more.

\---

_ “And she burns like the sun, and I can’t look away,” _

The crackling yet clear radio fills the room, rousing you from your slumber.

_ “And you’ll burn our horizons, make no mistake,” _

Feeling not the harsh slap of ice against your cheek, but the soft, cotton youets, you dare open one of your eyes.

_ “And I’ll hide from the world, behind a broken frame,” _

First, you see the radio, sat on the bedside table in the pale yellow room. Groaning against the dull ache in your midriff, you shift a little - enough so you can see the sleeping form of Shay Cormac, resting on a chair beside the bed.

_ “And I’ll burn forever, I can’t face the shame,” _

“I’m alive,” you hum to yourself, reaching out to poke Shay, “Shay, wake up,”

Your voice is quiet, hoarse even.

You poke again, grinning softly as he wakes with a start.

“Wha-you...you’re awake,” he is alert instantly, but the bags beneath his eyes tell your he’s not slept much, “How are you feeling?”

You wince as you sits up, asking Shay to pour your some water.

“How long have I been out? And where are we?” you ask, having never seen the room before.

“Four days - and you’re in my house, on the outskirts of New York,” he explains, handing your the glass of iced water carefully.

“Oh…” you hum, practically inhaling all the water, “What now, Shay? We’ve hunted those who wronged us,”

Taking the glass from you, and pushing you back down into the comfort of the bed, Shay shrugs his shoulders.

“Kenway did have a mission for me, but I’ve taken an extended holiday - I got you time off too,” he smiles, stroking your hair, “And I also took the courtesy of moving your stuff here- from your apartment I mean,”

Sighing in relief, for that's one less thing to worry about, you lean into his touch, until a thought pops into your mind.

“Shay...you know my motorbike?” you begin, only to be cut off by a swift and sweet kiss to your lips.

“In the garage, I got that back to,” he chuckles, “Though you’re not riding it until you’re recovered - and when you are well again, I’m taking you to my favourite hill to have a picnic...I have my own bike too, now,”

Grinning at his words, you snuggle back into the bed, already tired.

“I can’t wait,” you smile, lacing your hands through his.

You have survived, and rekindled your relationship with Shay; ha, now you’ll never let him out of your sight again!

“I love you, Shay,” you mutter drowsily, already succumbing to the lure of sleep again.

“I love you too, my love,” the reply comes, as he too drifts into a liberating, safe sleep.


End file.
